The following story contains descriptions of sex and violence. If you are offended by this or if you are under the legal age of consent in your country do not read on.

(c)JIM P 1995

I still had not found a full time job after being made redundant after 15 years as a software designer. I had even relocated house 3 times because of the firm, no wonder my kids Bobby and Jackie were screwed up. I was even more pissed off when I found that no-one would give you a full time job if you are over 35. Many of my former colleagues resorted to contract programming since companies would recruit these on short term contracts since they were cheaper to employ than full time staff. Many left my former company one Friday to re-appear Monday morning as a contractor on the same job. I refused to bow to this sort of exploitation and vowed to find something different.

I had a spell as a contract camera operator, based on earlier experience as a trainee. However, I screwed up any chance of renewing my contract after I drunkenly tried to assault one of the female presenters (JIMP#2).

I was feeling so down that despite my vow never to get drunk again I became a frequent visitor to my local. It was during one of these visits, that I met an old man who used to work at my company 15 years ago before he was laid off. He told me that he had a small private detective agency, that he wanted to retire and that I could take it over if I was interested. I thought about this for a few days before finally deciding to take the chance at a new career.

The clients tended to be men or women who thought their partners were being unfaithful and involved following the suspect around trying to photograph them in compromising positions. There were also a few cases of investigating corrupt councillors which didn’t make me too popular with the local council. After a while this began to get boring and I wondered whether I had made a serious mistake.

Then one day I was sitting in the small office I had rented over a newsagents when in walked a big brute of a man in a business suit and dark glasses. If this wasn’t Britain but America I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he had wore a gun. I was worried, perhaps he was sent by some offended councillor to sort me out. Nervously, I asked ask whether I could help him, but he ignored me and glanced all around my office. He then left the office only to re-appear a few minutes following a well-dressed gentleman in an obviously expensive designer business suit. “Mr. Priest?” The man asked. “Jim Priest. Sit down and tell me how I may help you” I replied. The man took a seat and introduced himself “My name is Sir Humphrey Smthye-Jones. I wish to employ your services in the investigation of a rather worrying matter”.

I offered him some coffee that he accepted and asked him to explain his problem. “Over a period of many years, there have been a number of strange occurrences at Bristlingdown Manor”, he explained, “There have been several break-ins with plenty of mess being made but nothing was ever taken. Then several of my domestics were caught rummaging through my possessions”. “You should have called in the police” I told him. “I did but as nothing had been taken they were not interested” he replied. “Perhaps someone is looking for certain items of value, perhaps with a buyer in mind” I told him. “I have plenty of priceless items, but none of them were touched. No, I think there is more to this than that. I have looked back through the family archives and have found similar incidents dating back to over 100 years ago” he tells me.

Starting to become intrigued, I ask “Is there any particular item of special importance that some collector may want bad enough to resort to stealing it?”.

“Mr. Priest, my family has collected many things throughout our long history. Any one of them could be sort after” he replies. “But has there been any pattern in what these people have been searching for?. Are they really related or could it be coincidence?” I enquire. “I doubt if it is coincidence. I think you should come to Bristlingdown and look at the archives yourself” he tells me. Since this sounds a whole lot better than tracking unfaithful partners, I agree to take on the case and make arrangements to visit Sir Humphrey’s home.

Being the school holidays, my spouse, Sue, persuades me to take our son, Bobby, along with me to keep him out of trouble at home. He is 14 now and seems to be mixing with the wrong crowd. I was amazed at how large the Bristlingdown estate is when after driving alongside a high wall for several miles we found out that it was the perimeter of the estate. We were stopped at tall iron gates at the entrance of the estate by a private security guard who asked who we were. After consulting his notes to see that we had been invited, he allowed us through.

We drove down the driveway to the house that was at least a mile in length. The estate was amazing, acres and acres of parkland and woods with deer and horses roaming freely. “Dad, look at those walls. Is like a bloody fortress innit?” Bobby exclaimed as we neared the house. He was right, the central part of the huge estate had been walled off. We were stopped at a huge iron gate in the wall by another security guard who showed us where to park the car in an area set aside outside walled area. We were then escorted through the gates and led up to the impressive manor house itself. We were met at the door by the bodyguard that was in my office the other day and he led us through the house to meet Sir Humphrey in his study. I remarked about the wall around the house and the security. “My great grandfather built the inner wall in the 1800’s upon return from his expeditions to India. He was an explorer you know. He was obsessed with making the manor secure and it was he who introduced the guards, secured the perimeter around the estate and walled off the central area around the house and its gardens”. “Sounds as if the old man had something to hide or something of great value that was worth the security” I remarked. “The security has been stepped up over the years particularly after a break in, but somehow despite it all they still get it, whoever they are.” He replied. “And what was your great grandfather protecting?” I asked. “I honestly have no idea, Mr. Priest. Maybe that is something you should find out for me” he replied.